The Cartographer (36 page)

‘I promise.'

‘Good. Ah, lunch.'

Lunch arrived, and proceeded in silence.

‘So, have you decided which school you want to go to next year?'

‘Probably City Boys High,' I said. ‘I already know my way around the place.' I looked at him with a straight face but with one of those twinkles I'd got off Granddad.

‘You know, I went there myself,' he said. ‘'Course, I never got as far as the basement. How about St Dominic's up on the hill? Top school. You'd do well there.'

I'd already told the Sandersons that I had my heart set on St Dom's.

‘Can't afford it; costs an arm and a leg. And Dad's gone again, probably for good this time.'

‘There are ways around that. So what do you think?'

I couldn't speak, just nod.

‘Good, then it's settled. Smart decision.'

He took a sip of coffee and looked around idly.

‘By the way, that shotgun has turned up. Just thought you'd like to know.'

I mimicked his nonchalant expression.

‘Thanks for telling me, Mr Sanderson,' I said, as politely as I could, but praying that he would just shut up about the bloody thing.

‘Now: cartridges. This is important, the games are over now, and I have to hear the truth. Have you got any left?'

‘No. I left the last two in the canal … with the dead bloke.'

‘They'll know that man was already dead, you know.'

‘Yeah, but now they've got a connection. And they've got the rope. I put a piece of it on the copper's bumper bar.'

‘Nuff said, eh?'

‘God, I hope so,' I said.

He took another sip.

‘Did anyone see you actually handle the gun? Anyone at all?'

‘No, no one.'

He read my mind again. ‘Don't worry about your grandfather. He won't be involved.'

‘Mr S … I mean, Mr Sanderson, what did Mum do during the war? She won't tell me.'

‘That's because she can't.'

‘She did tell me about the ambulance.'

‘Mmm?'

‘That she drove one …'

He smiled to himself, and his eyes drifted off to Memory Lane.

‘Ah yes. Well, you'll have to be content with that for the time being. Perhaps one day.'

There was a long silence between us, during which ‘The Donut Song' was played with Burl Ives singing away in his tinny voice as if his life depended on it.

Mr S took out his pipe and I watched him relax as if he was sitting on his front verandah. He glanced at the plate of doughnuts and raised his eyebrows.

‘What would you give one of those pineapple ones?'

I sniffed in the direction of the plate.

‘Mmm … seven.'

‘And, ah, Josephine Thompson?'

Peter Twohig was born in Melbourne in 1948 and grew up in Richmond and Dandenong. He survived a Catholic education, and worked in the Australian Public Service until 1992. He then moved to Sydney to become a naturopath and homoeopath. He has degrees in philosophy and complementary medicine.

The Cartographer
is his first novel.

Let us, and others, know how much you enjoyed The Cartographer at
TheCartographer.com.au

Many thanks to the following, for their help during the writing of this novel.

To my fabulous agent Lyn Tranter, and to Karen Colston and Kirsten Tranter at Australian Literary Management for their readings and feedback.

To Jo Butler, Sue Brockhoff, Jo Jarrah, designers Matt Stanton and Jane Waterhouse, editor extraordinaire Amanda O'Connell, and everyone at HarperCollins for their industry, enthusiasm and hospitality.

To Ann Parry for her readings of the book; to my sister, Kate, for her feedback, and for her memories of wicked nuns, lollies and Boston buns.